


Early

by notenoughtogivebread



Series: Klaine Advent 2015 [17]
Category: Glee
Genre: Dalton Academy, Episode: s02e20 Prom Queen, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9108391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: Written for Klaine Advent 2015 prompt underneath. Blaine has a gift for Kurt; set the [early] morning after Prom Queen.





	

He heard Kurt come up behind him where he stood on the balustrade looking over the grounds at Dalton. He didn’t turn his head to greet his boyfriend, just held his arm out and pulled Kurt close when he slipped under. He held him close, whispering, “Isn’t it beautiful?” 

The sky was lightening with the early morning, and as the soft glow spread across the dewy grass, the dawn chorus began. He felt rather than heard Kurt’s intake of breath and smiled, pleased to share this moment with him. 

Last night had been—everything. Awful and wonderful and maddening and inspiring. To realize that a world that could hold the ugliness that was the kids whose idea of a joke was crowning Kurt Prom Queen could also hold—well, Kurt—was sort of overwhelming. He’d struggled all night to put that smile back on Kurt’s face, and he thought he succeeded. Mostly he succeeded. Dancing with his brave, fierce boyfriend was everything he could ever have hoped it to be…and yet. After the prom, they sat in Kurt’s driveway for a long time before he went inside to his dad, slipping out of the car only when a sheepish Finn appeared on the porch. 

Blaine figured the night that followed was as sleepless for Kurt as it had been for him, so at 4 a.m., he texted him: **“Would you like to come see—and hear—something magical?”**

He was right. He didn’t have long to wait. _“Blaine. Do you own a clock?”_

**_Warblerboy:_** _Yes, that’s how I knew you have plenty of time to get here._

**_Mcqueenlives:_** _Where? What?_

**_Warblerboy:_** _The balustrade—you know, the upper porch at Dalton._

**_Mcqueenlives:_** _Isn’t it a little early for sunbathing?_

**_Warblerboy:_** _I have something else in mind. You need to be here by—let me check—5:35. To be on the safe side._

**_Mcqueenlives:_** _For what?_

**_Warblerboy:_** _Beauty. See you then. I’m gonna shower now._

He shut his phone down then, and actually left it in his room when he came up to the porch with a pile of blankets and pillows to wait. He stood up when Kurt’s headlights swept past, and looked to the east, where the barest hint of twilight hung on the horizon. 

It wasn’t quite like Kurt to enter so totally into the spirit of the thing, to wait as quietly as Blaine himself for whatever was to be revealed. Blaine took the quieting of his friend’s naturally inquisitive spirit as a sign of the lingering pain from the night’s humiliation, and squeezed him close. As he did so, the bird’s voices rose, intermingled, weaving melody lines and grace notes, point and counterpoint. The tree swallows and swifts danced in the air, catching the early mayflies on the wing. And the light—it bathed the trees in gold and the air shimmered the palest mauve. The bricks of the building behind them glowed. Down on the well-mowed lawn, rabbits appeared, and the caretaker’s duck and drake set out for their morning stroll to the pond, five ducklings—barely more than a collection of feathers—stumbling behind. Kurt leaned forward over the stone railing to watch them, and his laughter was the sweetest sound of the morning. 

Blaine stood back, his hands in the pockets of his Dalton hoodie, and watched Kurt’s delight. Kurt turned around and caught his eye, then leaned back against the railing. “Thanks. This was—one of your better ideas.” 

“Maybe I just wanted to see something even prettier than the dawn.” 

Kurt giggled at that. “You are so—“ 

“Impossibly, impractically romantic?” 

“Cheesy—a giant, ridiculous cheeseball. And I’m so happy you were my prom date.” 

He stepped close, slipped a hand around Kurt’s waist. “Maybe I just have a thing for royalty.” 

“Well, you DID look like Prince Charming last night. Very classy.” 

Too many “cheesy, ridiculous” replies leapt to mind, so he just kissed him instead. Kissed him slow and sweet as the morning. Kurt broke the kiss and rested his head on Blaine’s shoulder, then was caught by an enormous yawn that seemed to start from his toes. 

“That’s my cue to the second half of the adventure,” he said, pulling Kurt across to the nest of blankets on the padded bench. He lay down and drew Kurt down with him, warm. The other boys wouldn’t wake for hours. Here in this beautiful space, underneath blankets crocheted by his Anderson grandmother, he could keep Kurt safe. He pulled Kurt close and breathed him in, felt the sleep take over his slim frame, and then relaxed himself, let himself slip away. Safe. Safe.


End file.
